


Heat and Pressure

by Whiskyandtobacco



Series: Earthed [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-23 01:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskyandtobacco/pseuds/Whiskyandtobacco
Summary: Part II of Earthed, a six-part, AU, episodic retelling of season four in 10,000 word instalments. Takes place during Harsh Light of Day. Buffy tries to put Spike out of her mind after their earth-moving night of passion in the cave, but soon realises that's easier said than done: especially when he shows up on campus wearing the Gem of Amara. Part III (Less Than Human) coming soon.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Series: Earthed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176275
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Heat and Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> The final 3000 words are absolute filth just FYI ;)

_"Pain is what shapes us, after all. We are creatures born of heat and pressure and grinding, ceaseless movement. To be still is to be… not alive."_ \- NK Jemisin - The Fifth Season

Buffy limped along the road, very aware of the odd stares she was attracting. Her feet were bare, cut and bruised. Her thin skirt was torn and her shirt was so dirty that no one could have guessed it had once been white. Her hair was more clean than the rest of her, but it was wavy and matted; she hadn't been able to brush it for days.

Then there were the other, unseen, signs of her captivity, like the way her thighs slid stickily against each other, the after-effects of her recent, passionate tryst with Spike. She shivered, wishing she'd thought to grab her underwear before leaving the system of Hellmouth caves where he'd kept her captive. Pretty much everything below her waist felt uber-sensitive, slightly sore and... she sped up, walking more quickly, feeling about as exposed as it was possible to be. 

Buffy eventually reached Giles' apartment and knocked on the door, as loudly as she could. She looked over her shoulder, suddenly feeling certain she would see an enraged Spike closing in on her, but there was nothing but empty road behind.

As she reached up to knock again, the door was suddenly wrenched open and she fell, exhausted, into her relieved Watcher's arms. 

"Buffy!" he gasped her name rather than saying it, reaching out to take hold of her shoulders as if reassuring himself that yes, she did exist. Then he clutched her to his chest so tightly she winced. 

"My dear girl," he said, sounding almost on the verge of tears, squeezing her until she gave a protesting wriggle. 

"Hey, I'm not dead. Still need to make with the breathing," she quipped, and he released her, stepping back and taking in her dishevelled appearance, his expression quickly shifting from overjoyed to appalled when he saw her injured, bloody feet and filthy clothes. 

Giles quickly ushered her inside, closing the door behind her. 

"What did he do to you, Buffy?" he said, his voice grave. She just shook her head, lost for words. She opened and closed her mouth twice, but nothing came out. 

"Did Spike...take advantage?" Giles pressed on, filling the silence. "I've heard stories about him, terrible things. Oh Buffy, I'm..." 

She interrupted him, hoping against hope that her Watcher wouldn't notice just how much she was blushing. 

"No, I'm fine. Nothing happened. Well, nothing that a shower, clean clothes and a decent hairbrush won't cure, anyway. I'm totally OK, I pinky swear. I'm being 100% honest Buffy. He just wanted to keep me out of the way so he could look for some important thing. It's underground, somewhere - at least I think it is. Oh, and he's dating Harmony by the way, of all people. She showed up and tried to smooch him, it was majorly gross. We're definitely living in bizarro world. Do you have any Coke?" 

Buffy breezed off to the kitchen, hoping that the verbal diarrhoea she'd just unleashed might distract him from the much more intimate line of questioning he'd started on. She wasn't ready to tell anyone how she managed to get away, least of all Giles. After all, what would any of them think of her if she told them she'd slept with Spike? Worse: that she'd made a fully conscious, considered, entirely non-coerced decision to sleep with Spike. And that she'd actually enjoyed it. 

She was the worst Slayer ever. It was official. 

Giles appeared behind her as she opened the fridge, making her jump. He'd processed the information she'd just shared more quickly than she was expecting. 

"Important thing?" he asked. "What important thing? What is Spike looking for?" 

"I don't know. Weirdly, my vampire captor chose not to share his super top secret plans with me. What was he thinking? Also Giles, Mountain Dew? Seriously? Are you, like, a Midwestern 14 year old boy or something?" 

She grabbed a can and straightened up. Giles opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question but Buffy held up one finger, silencing him. 

"Can we do the whole third degree thing after I've had a shower? Also, you should probably call my mom, let her know I'm safe and get her to bring over some clean clothes. I didn't want to go straight home in case she freaked out when she saw me looking like a disaster movie extra." 

Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was, she recognised, an apologetic nose pinch, rather than an annoyed one. At what point had she learned to gauge his mood based on his weird British mannerisms, she wondered. 

"Yes of course, Buffy. I'm very sorry. You must be exhausted. I'll contact Joyce right away, she'll be so relieved. Feel free to use the bathroom to get cleaned up, there are fresh towels in there."

As soon as she was alone, Buffy locked the door and then slid down to sit with her back against the cool wood, her head in her hands. She did want to have a shower, but couldn't seem to bring herself to move. There was also some small, secret, barely-acknowledged part of her that didn't want to wash away what had happened, though she knew that was seriously icky. 

With a weary groan, she urged herself to her feet and went to turn on the hot water, taking off her gross clothes which, frankly, probably needed to be burned at this point. 

She washed her hair, lamenting the fact that Giles didn't have any conditioner - or shower gel, for that matter. All he had was a single, austere bar of soap. What was wrong with men? Did they love rough skin and split ends, or something? 

Buffy began to lather her body. Looking down, she noticed a bruise on her breast; a rapidly-purpling love bite just above her nipple. She shivered and closed her eyes, the memory of Spike's mouth on her skin breaking over her like a wave. She ran her wet fingers over the sensitive mark and began to tremble, her shaking knees almost giving way beneath her. Buffy instantly felt like she was back in the cage, astride him, and moaned. 

Tentatively, very aware that she was in her Watcher's bathroom, Buffy began to gently stroke her clit. She was achingly hard, and bit her lip to stifle a moan at the sensation. She sped up, her fingers sliding over the spongy, soft, slippery flesh in little figure of eight motions while her breath hitched and caught in her throat, thinking about how Spike had caressed her while she'd been riding his thick cock, the way he'd filled her to the brim, the way he'd felt every time she sank back down onto him. 

Buffy came suddenly and violently with a not-particularly-muffled yelp. She froze, afraid that Giles had heard her, but there was no sound from the hallway. She sighed, relieved. 

She was still in the shower - sitting with her arms around her knees beneath the cooling water - when her mom arrived, announcing her presence with a staccato knock on the bathroom door. 

"Buffy? Honey? I have clothes for you. Oh sweetheart, I'm so glad you're OK. Are you OK? Talk to me!" she said, relief and lingering anxiety jockeying for position in the sudden flood of words.

"I'm fine, mom," Buffy called back. "I'll be out in a minute." 

"I've left your clothes by the door," said Joyce, before retreating - presumably to interrogate Giles. 

Buffy shut off the water and wrapped herself in a towel, pausing in front of the small mirror above the sink. She reached out and brushed the moisture away with the palm of her hand, taking in her foggy reflection. She looked tired and pale, but other than that there were no other signs of what had happened. So why did she feel like a completely different person? 

Even after losing her virginity to Angel she hadn't felt like this. It was if her whole world had been turned upside down. Sex with Angel had been reassuring. It was what she expected. Sex with Spike was like...what? She shook her head as language completely failed her. Instead, Buffy's mind threw up images: lava rolling into the sea, steam bursting into the air, whirlwinds of fire and ice battling against each other. A huge earthquake ripping the land apart, remaking it, forming mountains and valleys. Him, pounding into her, again and again. 

Buffy closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted beyond belief. She dried herself slowly, then opened the door to grab her clothes and pull them inside. Her mom had brought a simple red shirt and a long black skirt, as well as ankle boots and clean underwear. His colours, she thought, as she pulled on the outfit. 

She squeezed the excess water out of her hair and walked through into the living room to face the music, only for her mom to pull her into a hug that was even more bear-like than the one Giles had greeted her with earlier. 

"Oh baby, I'm so happy to see you," she said, tearfully. 

The next hour was a blur of questions, explanations, anxious requests for clarification, and increasingly impressive dodges around the subject of just how, exactly, Buffy managed to get away.

"Like I said, Spike just got careless," she said, again. "He let his guard down, I managed to trap him in the cage, and now here I am." 

"But Buffy, how did you..." Giles began, but Buffy quickly interrupted him with a theatrical yawn. 

"She's tired!" exclaimed Joyce. "Mr Giles we really must go, she's been through so much. You can ask her more questions tomorrow if you need to, but right now she really needs to rest." 

Buffy made herself look as adorably sleepy and innocent as possible, rubbing her eyes and stretching to underline just how incredibly exhausted she was, not to mention entirely incapable of answering searching questions about what exactly she'd done during her time in captivity. 

Joyce ushered her daughter into the car with Giles following them down the steps and insisting they talk again the following day. As they drove away, Buffy sagged in her seat, clearly relieved. 

Her mom put her hand on her knee reassuringly. "Are you sure you're OK, sweetheart?" she asked, gently. Buffy felt tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, and blinked them away. This was not the time to go to pieces. And anyway, what could she say? "No mom, actually I'm really freaked because I just had intense, earth-shattering, life-changing sex with my mortal enemy, and I can't stop thinking about it and kinda want to do it again." 

Instead, she just squeezed her mom's hand, smiled, and nodded as they drove back to Revello Drive in silence.

\--- 

The phone was ringing when they got home. Joyce dropped her keys on the table, then picked it up. 

"It's Willow," she said, handing it to Buffy with a tired smile. "Don't be too long, it's late." She disappeared upstairs to get ready for bed. Buffy waited until she was out of sight before whispering "hey Will" into the receiver. 

"Buffy!" screeched Willow, loud enough to make her move the phone away from her ear, wincing slightly. "Are you OK? I was so worried?" she said, in a slightly less ear-splitting tone of voice.

"I'm..." Buffy was about to say "fine" for what felt like the 100th time that evening. Instead, she just fell silent, then sighed. 

"What's the matter?" said Willow, concern radiating down the phone. Buffy sagged, wishing she could tell Willow everything, but it was all still so tangled in her mind. And what would her sweet, innocent friend make of her having wild monkey cage sex with a soulless vampire? Fine was better. Fine summed it up. Fine. She was fine, right? But she couldn't say it. 

"Things got pretty weird, Will. Complicated weird. I'm OK, but I'll head back to campus first thing tomorrow. I think Kathy has a class at 12, maybe you could come by my room then so we can talk?" 

"Oh, did Giles not tell you?" said Willow. 

"Tell me what?" replied Buffy, twisting the phone cord around her finger, suddenly anxious. 

"It turns out Kathy was a demon. I went round on the night you went missing to ask if she'd seen anything unusual and she tried to steal my soul." 

"What?" squeaked Buffy. "Yeah! It was pretty wild. Oz showed up at just the right time and knocked her out. She was hiding from her demon family so they wouldn't take her back to her own dimension. But they found her and now she's gone! And the best news is, it means I can move in with you! Er, if you want to, that is?" Willow finished, sounding suddenly uncertain. 

"Of course I do, dummy!" said Buffy, suddenly overcome with happiness. She wouldn't have to listen to Believe by Cher ever again. "So I guess I'll see you in our room tomorrow morning, then?"

"It's a date," Willow replied, perkily. "Oh, and speaking of dates, Parker was asking where you were. He said he'd been planning to ask you to the party at Wolf House." 

"Wait... who at the what now?" said Buffy, momentarily confused. 

"Parker? He of the dark hair and dreamy eyes? The guy you like? You know - Parker?" said Willow, clearly confused. 

"Oh!" said Buffy. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Parker hadn't exactly been at the forefront of her mind lately. "Er, that's definitely of the good, I guess?" 

"Yeah, he was all 'oh, where's Buffy?' and I was like...well, I didn't actually tell him anything because I didn't know, but I made it seem very cool and mysterious. I just said you were away doing a special project, like you were a spy or something." 

"Thanks," said Buffy, weakly. Parker's dreamy eyes and interest in her whereabouts were a bit less exciting than they'd been a few days ago, but she was still pleased he'd cared enough to check up on her. 

"No problem, anything for my new roomie. Night Buffy." 

"Night Will," she said, warmly, putting the phone down. 

She wrapped her arms around herself. No more Kathy! And a cute, entirely normal guy with a pulse had been planning to ask her to a frat party. Everything was finally starting to work out. 

So, why - instead of feeling happy - was she still thinking about a certain blue-eyed vampire who she'd left locked in a cage? 

\--- 

Buffy felt unusually on edge while walking across campus to Stevenson Hall the next morning. Even though it was broad daylight, she kept turning around, somehow convinced that she was being followed. So when a hand landed on her shoulder, it wasn't hugely surprising when she flipped her assailant onto his back before leaping on top of him with her fist upraised. 

She lowered it apologetically as soon as she realised who it was. 

"Oh God, Parker, I'm so sorry," she said, reaching down to offer him her hand, but he just waved it away and stood up under his own steam. He brushed himself down slightly theatrically, even though he'd landed on a perfectly clean patch of grass. 

"I studied, er, martial arts, after school. For extra credit," explained Buffy. "And they really drummed that whole 'stranger danger' thing into us. Are you OK?" 

Parker nodded, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Buffy was suddenly reminded of how weird Xander had been with her when she'd stopped him getting beaten up by Larry and wondered if he was going to go nuclear about her hurting his manly pride. But once Parker was satisfied that there wasn't anyone in view, he visibly relaxed. 

"It's fine. Hey, remind me never to get on your bad side," he said with a disarming grin. Buffy smiled back. 

"I was just trying to get your attention. Willow said you'd been out of town, but when you didn't come back for a few days I started to wonder if the ground had swallowed you up or something."

"No, not...exactly," Buffy said, trying not to think of what had actually happened to her while she was away. "I was..." 

"It's good to see you, I'd..." Parker said, speaking at the same time as she did. "Oh, sorry, you go ahead." 

"Oh, no, I wasn't saying anything really," she replied, feeling more and more awkward by the minute. So cool, Buffy. Way to go. She blushed. 

"I was just going to say that I'd been planning to invite you to a party at Wolf House the other night, but you did the whole mysterious vanishing thing. Which is fine, of course. But, given that didn't happen, maybe we could grab a coffee later?" 

"Sure, I like coffee. I am all about caffeinated beverages. Big fan of...hot bean water," hot bean water? What was actually wrong with her? She cringed inwardly, but luckily Parker seemed to find it endearing rather than weird. Or weird in an endearing way, anyway. He laughed. 

"Great. I'll swing by and pick you up at eight, if that works for you?" 

"Eight is great," said Buffy, then winced again at the rhyme. 

"Hey, you're a poet and you don't know it," he replied, then cocked a pair of finger guns at her before sauntering away. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Buffy sighed, shaking her head at all the dumb things she'd said in such a short space of time. 

Spike heard Buffy mutter "hot bean water" to herself as she walked past the tree he was hiding behind, and smiled. 

Once she'd passed, he stepped out from the shade into the bright sunlight. He tipped his face up, closing his eyes, revelling in the intense heat against his cold skin. It was a delight after a century of darkness. 

Soon, very soon, the Slayer would get exactly what she deserved. 

\--- 

Buffy let herself into her room. Even though Willow had told her that Kathy was gone, she still breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the bare patch of wall where the Celine Dion poster had been. She hadn't quite been able to fully believe the good news until she'd seen it with her own eyes. 

She set her bag down on her neatly-made bed, and was about to sit down when she was disturbed by a knock on the door. It was Willow, who threw herself at Buffy with a squeal of relief and delight, wrapping her arms around the Slayer and dancing her around the empty half of the room. 

"Buffy! I'm so glad you're OK...I hope?" she said, her green eyes full of emotion. "I was so worried. I tried to do a locator spell but it went all ka-blooey." 

She looked down at the floor, clearly dejected about her lack of magical prowess.

"It wasn't your fault, Will," said Buffy, reassuringly. "Spike had me trapped underground near the Hellmouth, in a cage. He said the Hellmouth acts as a sort of shield. Basically, it turns out your white magic and raging, evil mystical energies are all kinds of unmixy." 

Willow gave a shaky little smile, then squeezed Buffy's hand. "Thanks," she said. "So are you?" 

"Am I what?" replied Buffy, looking puzzled. 

"OK?" 

"Um, yeah. I guess?" Buffy sat down on the bed and Willow settled beside her. 

"You said it got a bit weird? I guess that's a given, what with the whole 'being captured by a vampire and kept in a cage' thing." 

Buffy fell silent. She had no idea what to say, or even if she should say anything at all. 

"How did you get away, in the end?" Willow continued. Ah, there it was: the $64,000 question. The opening Buffy needed, but would she take it? 

She sighed, then put her head in her hands. "I...we...had sex. And afterwards, he dropped his guard. I locked him in the cage and ran for it." 

"What? Oh god, Buffy!" said Willow, looking absolutely aghast. "Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? A clinic? There's a place on campus I think..." She got to her feet, clearly agitated. 

Buffy shook her head vigorously, grabbing Willow's hand and pulling her back down. 

"Will, no, it wasn't...he didn't force me." Now it was Willow's turn to lose her ability to speak. Her mouth made an impressively wide variety of shapes, but no sounds came out. 

Before she had a chance to recover, Buffy pressed on with her story, keen to finish it before she lost her nerve and changed her mind. 

"When I said things got weird, that's what I was talking about. Spike saved my life when I got lost in the cave system, and carried me for miles when I was too exhausted to walk. He took care of me, in a bizarre way. We drove each other completely crazy down there but there was this build-up of heat behind it. Like...you know how a volcano gets before it erupts? All that pressure just needs to go somewhere. I couldn't fight it after a while, and when he grabbed me and kissed me..." 

"He kissed you?" yelped Willow. 

"Er, yeah. Will, I just told you I slept with another vampire, and it's the kissage that's surprising you?" 

"I just can't imagine Spike making the first move," she said. "He's been pretty clear about how much he hates you, after all." 

"Woah, so you thought I was the one who jumped his bones?" replied Buffy, intending to sound mock-outraged, but there was an edge of genuine annoyance to her voice. "Thanks so much. I'll have you know I'm actually a man-magnet. Parker asked me for coffee today as well." 

"What? Wow, Buffy. This is...a lot of information to take in." 

Buffy shot her a worried look. "Do you still want to move in with me? You know, given the fact I seem to be a total ho-bag, and all?" 

Willow laughed, and put an arm around her friend. Buffy cuddled up to her, leaning her head on Willow's shoulder gratefully. 

"Sure, as long as you stick to slaying vampires, and don't bring them back to our room for hot volcano sex. Deal?" Buffy closed her eyes, relieved. 

"Deal," she said, with a tired smile. 

\--- 

True to his word, Parker picked Buffy up from her dorm room at eight on the dot. She'd spent a long, tiring day travelling between various, increasingly skeptical professors to explain about the 'family emergency' she'd had to go away to deal with. 

Professor Walsh had been worst of all. Buffy had initially thought she was going to kick her out of the class, but then the TA, Riley, had stepped in and offered to spend some time bringing her up to speed with the classes she'd missed. The cantankerous academic had relented and told Buffy that she could stay, but reminded her that she owed a major debt of gratitude to Riley for his "generosity." 

"Penny for them?" said Parker, as they walked across the darkening campus in the vague direction of the Bronze. 

Buffy jerked back to the present, feeling completely dazed and weirdly out of sorts. 

"Oh, sorry. I was thinking about Professor Walsh. She kind of tore me a new one today after I showed up in her office to beg forgiveness for missing two whole classes." 

"Ah yes, the evil bitch-monster of death. Can't imagine she took that well. I know a guy who got kicked out of her class for asking the girl next to him for a pen. I'm surprised you managed to win her over." 

"Well, you know me. I'm very endearing," said Buffy, perkily, in an attempt to get the mood back on track. He smiled at her and she grinned up at him. 

"So, tell me about yourself, Buffy Summers," he said, as they closed in on the brightly lit strip of cafes and stores on the main street. 

"What do you want to know?" she said, sounding more guarded than she'd intended. 

"Uh, hobbies, interests. I feel like there's so much about you I don't know. What do you like to do?" 

"Mostly I hang out. And do... stuff." 

"Yeah, I was into that for a while," said Parker. He sighed. "To be honest, I've not actually been doing much lately. Not since my father died last year." 

Buffy put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, God. Parker, I'm sorry." 

"No, I'm okay to talk about it now. And I promise I'm not doing the whole deep, get sympathy routine. I mean don't you just hate guys that are all 'I'm dark and brooding so give me love?'" 

"Um, I'm not sure I've ever met anyone like that," Buffy replied, biting the inside of her cheek. 

"It was so sad," he continued, "cause there was well, a lot of stuff that he didn't finish. It make me think about, you know, living for now." 

Parker stopped and turned to face her, and she looked into his dark eyes, her lips parting slightly. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, his eyes flickered down to her neck. 

"Hey, what's that?" he said, pushing aside the collar of her jacket to reveal the knotty scar tissue from Angel's bite. "You have a scar." 

Buffy shivered. 

"Yeah, right. Angry puppy." 

"Oh, is that what you're calling Angel now?" said Spike. He was standing a few feet behind her. As she whirled around to face him he took a deft step back, moving just out of stake range. 

"Angel?" asked Parker. "That was the puppy's name," said Buffy, not taking her eyes off Spike. "He had to be...rehomed. Spike, can I have a word with you in private for a moment?" 

She stepped forward and grabbed the sleeve of his leather duster before he had time to react, then turned back to Parker, a brittle, fake smile plastered over her face. 

"Won't be long!" she said, in a bright, sing-song voice. 

She dragged Spike just out of earshot, then rounded on him angrily. 

"Why are you here?" she said. "Is it time for that dramatic showdown you wouldn't shut up about? Because if so, thanks so much for choosing to do it while I'm on a date." 

Spike scoffed, looking back at Parker. "A date, is that what you're calling it? And I suppose you're falling for the whole 'dead dad' sob story? A classic." 

"What? Oh come on, Spike. Why would he lie about that?" she replied, rolling her eyes. 

"I'm serious. I've been around a long time, pet. I've met a lot of guys like him. Hell, I've shagged a lot of guys like him. And I've heard that line, or ones like it, a hundred times over. Bet you a snog that his dad's still alive and kickin' back home." 

Buffy's mouth was hanging open. Her ears had stopped working after "I've shagged a lot of guys." She shook her head to clear it, deciding that this really wasn't the time to dig into that revelation any further, as much as she might want to. 

"Either shut up and fight me, or let me get back to what I was doing," she said tersely. 

"Mmm, bit impatient, aren't you Slayer? Don't worry, 'm still plannin' to kill you. Just not tonight. Wouldn't want to get in the way of your hot date. Looks like you've got a very fun evening planned for the lucky lad. Not sure he really knows what he's let himself in for, mind." 

He quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head, then dropped his gaze to her chest, admiring the way her cleavage rose and fell in her tight, low-cut dress. He ran his tongue over his lips and Buffy felt her cheeks start to burn. 

She was suddenly assailed by memories of the way he'd felt between her legs, remembering how he'd worked her into a frenzy with the same, sinful mouth that was currently smirking at her sensually. She was also very aware of the way her body was responding to the frankly indecent way he was undressing her with his eyes. 

Buffy pressed her thighs together in a vain attempt to stop the throbbing that had started between her legs. She didn't need to touch herself to feel how wet she was getting. Worse, she knew that he knew: his nostrils flared and his eyes seemed to darken, turning almost navy blue in the dim light. 

Spike growled and took a step towards her. Buffy hopped backwards, looking over at Parker who was doing quite a good job of pretending to read a band poster pinned to the door of a nearby cafe. The sight of him jolted her out of the intense sexual daze she'd fallen into. 

"I'm going, Spike," she said, firmly. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. His eyes flashed yellow and saw him curl his slender hands into fists. 

"Fine, trot off back to your white bread little fucktoy," he said, bitterly. Then, more quietly: "you know he'll just disappoint you though, right?" 

Buffy hesitated for a moment, then continued to walk away from him. By the time she'd reached Parker's side again, Spike was gone. Buffy breathed a sharp sigh of relief. 

"Hey, you OK? I was getting a little worried," he said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, it's just...the English guy is an exchange student. I've been helping him with orientation. He gets lost a lot." 

"Seemed like he was into you. Do I have a rival? Will I need to duel it out with him? Because I'm warning you, I'm terrible with a sword." 

Buffy started to laugh, but trailed off. She was quiet for a second, then finally said: "no, I'm not interested in him." 

"Good. Seems like we have time to make up for. Still want that coffee?" Buffy looked at him, still tingling from the electric aftershocks of her encounter with Spike. Her lingering arousal made her feel suddenly bold. 

"No, but I'll take a kiss from the cutest guy in Sunnydale," she said. He looked startled for a moment, then leaned in. Buffy pulled him close, pressing herself against his chest as she tentatively brushed her lips against his. Then she pulled back and ran her hand over his cheek. 

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

"Making a choice," she replied, then kissed him again, more deeply this time. 

High above them, on the top level of a rusty, rickety fire escape, Spike took another drag on his glowing cigarette, then threw the burning stub over his shoulder without putting it out. He watched Buffy and the college boy walk off down the street together until they were out of sight. 

\--- 

Buffy's steely determination carried her all the way to Parker's room. He closed the door behind them, then turned around. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but instead he just guided her to the bed and pushed her shoulders until she sat down.

Parker ran his hand through her hair briefly, then cupped the back of her head and pulled her face to his. It was a decisive, entitled, ownership-filled movement and she instinctively stiffened, then forced herself to relax. She was going to go through with this if it was the last thing she did. The only two people she'd slept with had been vampires, and that just was not a good look for anyone, particularly the Slayer. 

She needed a normal boy. A normal, cute, human boy, with nice hair and kind eyes. A normal, cute, human boy who said reassuring things like "hey, fancy going for a stroll outdoors in the daylight?" or "I've never killed anyone" or "I've been alive for less than a century." That sort of thing. 

Parker deepened the kiss and leaned into her, pushing her back onto the bed. She broke away, looking at him shyly, then shuffled so she was lying down, kicking off her boots and lifting her legs up. He scooted up beside her and began unbuttoning her shirt. 

She tensed up again, and this time Parker noticed too. 

"Are you sure about this?" he said, and something in his tone said he clearly expected the answer to be "yes". 

Buffy just nodded and kissed him again, and he carried on slowly peeling away her layers. When he got to her bra, he fumbled with the catch for so long that she got impatient, reaching behind herself to unclip it and toss it to the floor, where it joined Parker's array of discarded clothing. 

His hands went to her breasts, kneading and squeezing them roughly. It would have been almost painful if she wasn't the Slayer, and even so it wasn't exactly sexy. 

She moved her upper body away slightly, and he took the hint and dropped his hands to the waistband of her slacks instead, unbuttoning them before sliding them off her hips and hurling them to one side, so she was lying on his bed in just her panties. 

She felt suddenly self-conscious, and clasped her hands to her chest awkwardly. Spike had lavished attention on her pussy at this point in the process, so Buffy instinctively parted her thighs, hoping for a repeat performance. But Parker just settled himself between them, thrusting his denim-clad hard-on roughly against her mound, bending to briefly kiss her tits before sliding his tongue into her mouth again. 

After a minute of enthusiastic - but clumsy - making out, Parker leaned to one side and opened his drawer, pulling out a foil-wrapped packet that he ripped into with his teeth. He turned away briefly, then seconds later he was back on top of her and his cock was prodding against Buffy's satin clad pussy again. 

He thrust against her a couple of times and she arched her back, beginning to enjoy the sensation. But before she could really get into a rhythm, Parker reached down and tweaked her panties to one side, then jammed himself home. 

She winced – in surprise rather than pain. At no point had he stopped to admire her in the way Spike had, or complimented her body, or stared at her hungrily like she was a delicious snack just waiting to be eaten up. 

In contrast, Parker had barely looked at her even after she'd got most of the way naked in his bed. It was as if she could have been anyone. 

Buffy forced those thoughts out of her head, took a breath and tried to just go with the flow. Now the initial urgency was over, Parker turned his attention to her neck, kissing and nibbling on it. It felt good, and she began to moan encouragingly. She tried her best to put Spike out of her head, even though her unhelpful brain kept superimposing his face on Parker's.

She screwed her eyes closed, then began to lift her hips to meet his. Parker sped up, grunting every time he thrust into her. Parker's cock felt much smaller than Spike's, but after a minute of rather aimless rutting he changed the angle slightly so his pelvic bone was brushing against her clit. She whimpered as she felt a little bit of pleasure begin to build, but as she tightened her muscles around his cock to increase the friction he cried out, faltering and falling still. 

"What the hell was that?" he said with a pained groan. "Jesus." 

"Sorry," she said, blushing. He shook his head, then buried his face in her shoulder and started to fuck her in earnest, slamming into her in a way that was entirely focused on his own pleasure. It was as if he was trying to get himself off using her pussy instead of his hand; like she was almost being punished for hurting him. 

Within a minute, Parker gasped and shuddered on top of her, then slumped so he was resting his whole weight on her body. He lay like that for a moment, then rolled away. 

He reached out and patted her on the thigh, like a well-behaved horse he'd just ridden across the finish line. 

"Mmm, that was great, baby," he said. "Did you...you know...?" He looked at her expectantly, and she furrowed her brow. Did she what? Then it dawned on her: he was asking if he'd made her come. He couldn't tell. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? HOW could he not tell? Spike had delighted in it. Revelled, even. 

"Um yeah?" she said, flushing slightly at the lie, not to mention the realisation that that short but sweet hump-session was going to be the pinnacle of her sexual enjoyment that evening. 

Wow. That was so not what she'd been expecting. He slid one arm beneath her shoulders and pulled her to him, squeezing her in a slightly suffocating hug that left her fighting the urge to punch him and wriggle free. He was asleep before she could protest, snoring into her hair, while Buffy lay beside him, wide-awake and rigid between the red sheets. 

Well, she'd wanted normal sex with a regular, human guy, and it seems like the Powers That Be had definitely delivered. Talk about being careful what you wish for. 

\--- 

Parker didn't contact her. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much, given the fact that the time she'd spent in his room had been pretty damn unsatisfying, but it did. 

After patrol the following night, Buffy raced across her dorm room to check her messages, and groaned when the only one she had was Willow saying: "hi, It's me. Did Parker call yet?" 

She lay face down on her bed, her pillow over her head. It wasn't that she wanted to date him, exactly. It's just that he was supposed to be her normal college guy. Her standard-issue, cute, funny boyfriend who'd take her to the Bronze and joke with her friends and put his arm around her at the movies and retain his soul after they had sex. All the usual things that non-Slayers got to enjoy. 

It was so unfair, she thought, tears running down her cheeks. What was wrong with her? 

She must have cried herself to sleep, because the next thing she knew it was the morning and light was streaming through the window. She rolled over, realising that Willow had taken off her shoes and covered her with a blanket. She smiled: she might not have a boyfriend, but she had a normal, kind human roommate, at least. 

Buffy looked at her clock, and groaned. It was a Tuesday, which meant she had an early history class that she hadn't studied for. Standard-issue Buffy behaviour. 

After a quick shower, she headed out to face the day. The weather was even more aggressively bright and sunny than ever, and it really didn't match her gloomy mood. Buffy was halfway to class when she noticed a familiar figure leaning on a bench: Parker. He was talking to a cute blonde girl who looked a bit like a less tired and bad-tempered version of her. 

As she moved into earshot, she realised that he was talking about his dad again, and the comments Spike had made about his sob story being faker than a six dollar note came back to her. 

"You know it hit me hard, my dad. Since then I just don't put stuff off anymore. It's about living for now," he murmured at the twinkie in the tight outfit. Buffy tensed, then inserted herself into his line of sight. 

"Parker, what's going on?" she said, trying to sound steely and righteous, but she couldn't seem to help a wavering, uncertain note creeping in. 

He looked momentarily surprised, but recovered smoothly, smiling disarmingly at her. 

"Hey Buffy, this is Katie Loomis. Hey, Katie, you're going to be late for class. I'll catch up later, OK?" The girl waved at Buffy, then sashayed away, swinging her hips as she left. 

"You didn't call," she said, once Katie was out of earshot. 

Parker laughed awkwardly. "Well, it's only been a day. What did you want to talk about?" 

"I thought we could maybe do something later," said Buffy, trying to ignore how pathetic the words sounded when she said them out loud. 

"Oh... uh... I think I'm supposed to get together with some people tonight," he replied. "Sorry." 

Buffy took a deep breath. "Parker, did I do something wrong?" 

"No, of course not. It was fun, didn't you have fun? Watch out how you answer that, my ego is fragile." He gave a slightly weary-looking smile. 

"Fun? So, that's all it was to you?" she heard herself say. 

"Well, yeah. What else would it have been? Some kind of commitment? Are you sure that's what you want right now? Look, Buffy..." 

He opened his mouth to spout yet another meaningless platitude, but she jumped in and interrupted him, anger rushing in to fill the void her self-confidence had left. 

"Actually Parker, it wasn't that fun. And no, to answer your question, I didn't - 'you know'. That only tends to happen if you last more than, like, four minutes. I didn't want to do something tonight because you rocked my world, I just thought I'd give you another chance. Thanks for making it clear that you're not worth a second go." 

As she turned on her heel and walked away from him, she crashed right into Spike, who grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around a corner and out of sight. 

"Hello, Slayer," he said with a feral grin. She froze, feeling like the scene in front of her didn't make sense, but unable to piece together why. Then she realised. 

"What? How are you doing this? Shouldn't you be on fire?" said Buffy, her nose screwed up in rabbit-like puzzlement. 

Spike ignored the question (and the related but unwelcome fact that she looked adorable when she was confused). He looked around, took a deep, unneeded breath of fresh air, then tilted his face up to catch the sun. "Mmm, birds singing, squirrels making lots of rotten little squirrels. Sun beaming down in a nice, non-fatal way. It's very exciting, I can't wait to see if I freckle." 

He let go of her arms. The clock in the distance sounded 10am. She wasn't in class, again. Her history professor was going to kick her out for sure. The campus had emptied of students, all of them absorbed into the large, brick buildings around her. Buffy swallowed. This was very much not of the good. 

Spike held up his hand, and she saw the ring on his finger glisten in the bright sunlight. 

"The Gem of Amara," he said. "Quite a nifty little bit of jewellery, though I'm not that big a fan of green. Doesn't really bring out my eyes. Does a great job of making me completely invincible though, so it's worth the sacrifice." 

He backhanded Buffy across the face, knocking her to the ground. 

"That's for locking me in that cage," he said, his voice suddenly frosty. Buffy leaped back to her feet, a stake appearing in one hand. 

"Oh, is this a lover's tiff? Sorry, I didn't get the memo," she quipped, then feinted left before delivering an impressive flying kick to the centre of his chest. He staggered, but stayed upright. 

They glared at each other, his sapphire-blue eyes locked with hers. The sun made them look even more vibrant and lustrous than they'd been in the cavern. 

"So, you let Parker take a poke, eh?" said Spike, his voice low. There was an undertone to his words that almost seemed bitter. 

"Gross, Spike," said Buffy, sidestepping the question. 

"Take it that all of that 'my dad's dead' bollocks worked, then? Didn't have you pegged as being dumb enough to buy it." 

Buffy bit her lip. Then she fiddled with her sleeves, unable to meet his gaze. "Guess you were wrong about me," she said, finally. 

Spike took a step towards her. His eyes were blazing now, filled with an indescribable intensity. 

"And the berk didn't bother to call?" he said, a hard edge creeping into his voice. 

Buffy shook her head, her shoulders sagging. The fight had gone out of her – she knew it, and she could see that Spike had noticed too. She sighed, then nodded. 

"The boy's an idiot," he said, softly. "Clearly didn't know what to do with you. If he had..." 

"What?" she said, a little too quickly. Daring him to finish his sentence. She dropped her eyes to his chest, not quite able to bring herself to look at his face. His eyes were like two bright spinels, burning her up. 

"If he had, pet, he'd be addicted to you. No question of him not calling. You wouldn't be able to get rid of him." Before she had time to react he was beside her. He took hold of her chin and tilted her face up to his, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Look at me. You're like a bloody elemental force, pullin' me in. Came here today to kill you, was right brassed off with you for leaving me like you did. But I can't stop thinking about how you felt when you were writhing on top of me, squeezin' me, all hot and tight." 

She closed her eyes and shuddered: an uncontrolled full body tremor, and he felt it. He groaned, then smashed his lips against hers, claiming her mouth in the most dizzying, passionate kiss Buffy had ever experienced. She moaned, and flung her arms around his neck. 

She dropped the stake and it fell, unheeded, to the ground behind him. Spike took her face in his hands and ravaged her lips, consuming her, his questing tongue caressing hers. It was everything her kiss with Parker hadn't been: almost obscenely sexual, masterful and worshipful and it sent her completely out of her mind. 

Buffy eventually broke away with a gasp, regretting the fact she still needed to breathe. She sagged, panting and overwhelmed, clinging on to his leather-clad forearms to steady herself. She was silent for a moment, as if weighing something up. 

"Have you...is there somewhere we can go? Willow's in my room." 

She looked up at him shyly, and watched a brief moment of initial confusion turn to surprise on his face, then he quirked his lips in a sinful, pleased smile as realisation dawned.

"Yeah, luv, I've got somewhere," he leaned in to kiss her again, more gently this time. It was like a promise, and it made her melt even more. 

Spike took her hand and together they set off towards the underground lair that, up until recently, he'd been sharing with Harmony. She'd done a runner after she'd discovered he'd slept with Buffy, and he hoped against hope she was planning to stay away. Spike wasn't sure what the hell he'd been thinking, taking up with her. Well, he did. He'd been lonely. Centuries with Dru hadn't exactly made him an expert at being on his own. Still, Harmony was a piss-poor substitute for... 

"You're quiet. You're never quiet. What's going on?" said Buffy, interrupting his chain of thought. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand reassuringly. 

"Wonderin' what this all means, to be honest," he said quietly. Buffy took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. 

"Yep, same," she said, after a beat. There wasn't much more to be said about the situation. Vampires and Slayers were pretty unmixy, on the whole. But Spike, well...she had to admit that she was drawn to him for some reason. 

Oh, who was she kidding. She was drawn to Spike because he was hot. Life-threateningly, scorchingly, 'who gave him those cheekbones' hot. Plus he knew it, too, which somehow made him even hotter. 

Spike drew her towards a gap between two rocks, which in turn led to a tunnel. Buffy followed him warily, wondering if she was about to get trapped again, only to find herself in what looked like a bordello furniture showroom. 

The underground chamber was dominated by a luxurious king-sized bed with cream silk sheets and a padded headboard, flanked by two ornate lamps. There were even chairs, a dresser and a table, which was covered in what looked like mining blueprints. Buffy stopped in her tracks, her mouth hanging open. 

"Jeez, Spike. You could have told me you'd been living it up like a subterranean Hugh Hefner. I can't believe you were keeping me on a crash mat in a cage when..." 

Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, Spike closed the distance between them and stopped her mouth with a soft kiss, which soon ramped up in intensity. His insistent tongue slid between her lips, sending electric shocks shooting down her spine. A swimming giddiness rose up inside her, sending every single rational thought she'd ever had fleeing in advance of a rolling tide of sheer lust. 

She moaned into his mouth, and he slid his arms down to her ass, then gently lifted her up. She hooked her legs around him as he walked them both over to the big bed before tumbling them both down onto it in a loose tangle of limbs. 

Spike twisted so she was pinned beneath him and she gasped, then arched her back, pressing herself against his lean body; her legs still wrapped around his waist. She wriggled her hips against his hard-on and was rewarded with a groan. She did it again, the overwhelming need to be possessed by him making her desperate and wanton. 

"Mmm, Slayer," murmured Spike into her hair. She smelled of honeysuckle and vanilla and he basked in her incredible, intoxicating scent. He moaned as she lifted her hips to meet his, rubbing against him more insistently. 

Fuck, he was going to come before he'd even managed to get her undressed at this rate. He extricated himself from her grip with some difficulty, then stood up and basked in the sight of her lust-dazed, flushed face and tousled hair. 

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, huskily, then shrugged off his leather duster before tugging his T-shirt up and over his head. The soft lamp light threw his white-quartz chest into relief, making it glow in the otherwise dark room. Buffy's lips parted at the sight. He was ethereal, almost angelic. It was hard to believe he was actually a demon. 

"You too," she breathed. She reached out to him and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet. He gently tugged her gossamer-thin, powder-blue top layer up and over her head, followed by the spaghetti-strap shirt she was wearing beneath it. Then he trailed his fingers up and down her bare arms before ghosting them lightly over the tops of her breasts, leaving pebble-like waves of goosebumps in their wake. 

She shivered, and he reached behind her to unsnap her bra, twisting it open one-handed. He threw it onto the bed, then cupped her breasts with his almost ice-cold hands, making her already hard nipples draw into diamond-sharp points. 

"Such gorgeous tits," he murmured. A moment later, his fingers dropped to her waistband, unbuttoning her sensible, black I'm-definitely-going-to-class-today slacks and encouraging her to step out of them. She shivered as the cool air of the cave caressed her thighs, though whether it was because she was actually cold, or just so turned on her body had stopped working properly, it was hard to say. 

"Buffy," he whispered, before bending down to kiss her ear, caressing the soft skin with his tongue. Then he nibbled lightly on her earlobe and she was almost floored by the intense, electric jolt that shot all the way from her jaw to her pussy. 

"Guh," she replied, rendered temporarily insensible by the sensation of his blunt teeth scraping over her sensitive flesh. 

"Mmm, you're so wet for me, pet, can smell it," he murmured. He let his fingers dance teasingly over the elastic of her panties for a second, then fisted them and tore them from her body in one smooth motion. Buffy barely had time to let out a little yelp of surprise before she was tossed onto her back on the bed; Spike leaping after her. 

His hands were suddenly on her knees, pushing them apart roughly. He settled himself between her legs, pressing fevered kisses against her inner thighs, gradually moving closer and closer to her glorious, soaked cunt, holding her hips tightly as she bucked and wriggled against him. 

"Spike, please." she begged, her fingers tugging on his hair until it stood up from his head in loose waves. "Please, I need..." 

"I know what you need, pet," he growled, then lifted her hips off the bed and swept his tongue from her asshole all the way up to her clit. She let out a shuddering, keening cry of delight, so he did it a second time, then slid his tongue deep inside her, fucking her gently a couple of times before withdrawing, his mouth shiny with her juices. 

"Fuck, Slayer, you taste so good," he said, breathlessly. He dove down again, gently lapping at her as she wailed and mewled above him. Spike let go of Buffy's hips and reached up to cup her breasts, brushing his rough thumbs over her nipples, remembering how she liked to be touched. He pinched her, rolling the hard flesh between his thumb and forefinger and she cried out again, arching her back to bring more of her skin into contact with his hands. 

At the same time, her redoubled his assault on her clit, timing his movements to match her increasingly jerky hip thrusts. She got wetter and wetter as she fucked his face, Spike gradually falling into an almost balletic rhythm: suckling her slippery little nub on each downstroke, letting it go as she pulled back, then recapturing it again, pulling and caressing and trapping it between his teeth and tongue. 

The noises that Buffy were making were barely human at this point, her breath was coming in hitching, sobbing, desperate pants. She felt a tingling, intense ache start to build deep inside her body; a dull burning sensation that quickly built into a raging inferno. 

"Oh God, Spike, I'm...don't stop, please, I'm going to...oh," her head flew back and her arms flew out to grasp the sheets, her knuckles going white as she gripped the soft fabric. She lifted up from the bed as if she was possessed, her back arching until she felt like it would snap. She screamed until she couldn't scream any more, her harsh yell eventually turning into a sort of husky gasp. She fell back, limply, and covered her face with her hands, slightly embarrassed at the noises she'd just made. 

"That was..." she rasped, her voice hoarse. Before she could even think about finishing that sentence, Spike had gathered her up in his arms again, pulling her against his chest. 

He took hold of her hand and pressed it to his crotch, and she gasped as she felt how hard he was. 

"Feel what you do to me," Spike growled, before kissing her again. She squeezed him at the exact same time that his tongue slipped sinuously between her lips, smiling as she heard him moan helplessly into her mouth. She turned her attention to his belt, unbuckling it with suddenly clumsy fingers. Then she unzipped him, reached in and took hold of his aching cock, wrapping it in her hot palm. 

Spike made a feral noise in the back of his throat. He thrust into her hand a couple of times before standing up and tugging off his jeans. He reached for Buffy, dragging her to her knees on the bed. He ran his hands over her slender, naked body proprietarily, then turned her so she was facing away from him, still kneeling. 

"Wh...what are you doing?" she asked, even though - deep down - she knew the answer to that question. 

He pushed at the small of her back insistently until she fell forward with her peachy butt in the air, and she felt him grab her hips. The bed dipped as he climbed up onto it behind her and she tried to turn around - feeling far too spread-open and exposed - but he smacked her ass, hard, and she winced. 

"Stay still," he growled. She moved again, startled by the stinging blow, and he hit her again on the other side. 

"I said, stay still," he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. She forced herself to freeze. "Good girl," he murmured, stroking the red mark he'd left on her hip. 

She jerked and gasped as those two simple words sent a sharp, taser-like bolt of desire right to her molten core. Spike chuckled. 

"Mmm, the Slayer likes it rough," he purred. "Guess that's not too surprising." 

She felt him position himself behind her, then groaned as he used both thumbs to spread her pussy wide open. She felt depraved and wild and incredible and so, so dirty. 

"Ever been fucked from behind?" he said. She shook her head. "Good," he replied, then thrust forward, impaling her on his thick, rock-hard cock in one smooth motion. 

Buffy screamed his name, throwing her head back as he plunged into her soaking wet cunt. Spike reached out and fisted her hair, using it to pin her in that position. She opened her eyes and found herself staring right up at the rocky, hand-hewed roof of his underground lair. 

How the hell had she ended up here, getting fucked doggy-style by a vampire in weirdly cosy cave, she thought. She was supposed to be learning about the Civil War. 

Then he thrust forward again and all rational thought disappeared. He let go of her hair and curled his hands around her thighs as he pistoned into her, setting a hard, fast, desperate, lust-filled pace that soon had the bed's springs whining and the headboard thudding against the stone wall. She pushed back against him, wanting to show that she could take as much as he was able to give her. She didn't want him to hold back, at all. 

"Yeah pet, you like me fuckin' your tight, hot little cunt?" he grunted, closer to her ear than she was expecting. Buffy pushed back, trying to get as much of his cock into her pussy as she possibly could. "Y...y...yes," she whispered, letting out a series of hitching, breathy little moans in perfect time to his thrusts, which somehow made him even harder.

"More, please," she begged. 

He roared, then pulled out of her and dragged her backwards off the bed, spinning her so she was standing in front of a battered, thigh-high chest of drawers. Spike lifted one of her legs so she was kneeling on the cabinet, tilting her forward so her hands were braced against the wall. Her other foot was still on the floor, and she had to stand on tiptoes to keep her balance. 

"What are you..." she began, then gasped as he rammed himself up into her dripping wet pussy, the new angle allowing him even deeper access. Buffy let out a keening, shuddering moan; Spike grunted and snarled animalistically. 

"Christ, pet, you're so fucking tight, so hot, oh yeah, keep squeezing me like that baby, feels so good," he babbled as he thrust up into her aching, stretched-wide cunt. 

Every time he sheathed himself fully inside her she saw white lights dance across the edges of her vision. Sweat trickled down her spine and he leaned forward to lick it up, running his tongue from her shoulder blades right up to the nape of her neck before nipping her with blunt teeth. She let out a throaty little moan. 

They were like two tectonic plates colliding, sliding and boiling against each other, not caring that they were shattering the ground above them. 

Spike's cock swelled and twitched inside her and she knew he was close. She urged him on as he jackhammered into her, lifting her off her feet with the sheer force of his thrusts. He reached around and began to finger her clit, pressing down and rubbing it with his index finger in deft, well-practiced strokes, wanting them to come together.

Buffy squealed at the new, almost overwhelming sensation, and felt herself start to lose control, her body racked by a series of uncontrollable shudders. She fell unusually silent and he felt her entire body tense up. She curled forward, her stomach muscles tightening and her pussy clamping, vice-like around his cock. Then she howled as the second intense orgasm of the (morning? afternoon? She'd lost track of time) crashed over her. Stars and galaxies pinwheeled across her field of vision. 

The feeling of her silky quim fluttering around his prick pushed Spike over the edge, and he came inside her with a sharp, explosive yell, spurting wildly inside her slick, tight cunt. 

He carried on fucking her, more and more gently, until she finally stopped convulsing in his arms. He pulled out of her, a rush of cool liquid running down her thighs in his wake. 

"Oh God," she said, staggering, her jelly like legs refusing to hold her up. Spike gathered her in his arms and carried her back to the bed before scooting up to lie beside her. Her pulled her unresisting body against his cool chest, holding her until her heart finally stopped racing. He stroked her hair. 

"Shh," he murmured, kissing her forehead affectionately, as if they were lifelong lovers rather than sworn enemies. 

"Reckon you needed that, didn't you kitten?" he said, sounding very pleased with himself. "Take it that college kid left you hangin' the other night." 

Buffy was far too tired to tell him off for bringing Parker up at a time like this, so she just nodded weakly. He gave her a squeeze. 

"Good job you've got me to take care of you, then." She nodded again, then surprised them both by lifting her leg over his thigh so they were nestled more closely together. 

"Not planning to do a runner again, I take it?" he said, shifting so both of his arms were wrapped around her. She didn't reply, letting her sigh of contentment answer his question. 

It felt so good to be held. _He_ felt so good, she thought, as she drifted off to sleep. It seemed natural, like this was exactly where she was supposed to be. 

Spike pressed his face into her sweet-smelling hair, feeling her body begin to relax as she dozed. He took an unneeded breath, drinking her in. He was completely fucked, he realised. She was sunshine, surrounding him, burning him up. She was light, heat and pressure. 

She was in his heart, and he was drowning in her. 


End file.
